


snakes and lions and liars, oh my

by high_lady_of_books



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Draco Malfoy Being an Asshole, Draco Malfoy-centric, Gen, Good Draco Malfoy, Gryffindor Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley Friendship, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy Friendship, Most of the time, Not Canon Compliant, Ron Weasley Bashing, Tags May Change, To Be Continued, at some point, but not a lot, i despise him, no relationships yet they’re literally 11, not completely anyway, there’s definitely going to be some
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28641396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/high_lady_of_books/pseuds/high_lady_of_books
Summary: Hogwarts has always been Draco’s dream. He would be in Slytherin, and make friends (alliances), learn more magic, and make his father proud. It’s all he’s ever looked forward to, other than being able to meet the Boy-Who-Lived.What happens when all of Draco’s dreams are shattered by a single word?
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	1. The Sorting

**Author's Note:**

> So I’m really hoping I can do this, because I am quite notorious for starting longer projects and never finishing them :P
> 
> Hope you guys like it!

As McGonagall opened the large doors, every one of the new children gasped in delight.

The Great Hall was loud and bright, filled with four crowded tables of excited students. All of the first-years stood, wide-eyed, for a minute or two, staring at the floating candles and starry sky on the ceiling, or at the long row of wizards and witches who’d mastered magic and would be teaching them. Some of them watched the tables, hoping and praying they’d get into the house they wanted—whether it be Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, or Gryffindor.

Their wonder wore off a bit as they all saw Professor McGonagall stand next to a short stool with a worn hat resting on top, realizing they would have to sit there, one by one, in front of the entire school. 

None of them thought it seemed very enticing.

Whispers kept circling, as they always did, even when McGonagall conjured the list of new students and cleared her throat. Getting any children to be quiet was difficult, especially on the first day.

When their attention was finally gotten, a  song was belted out by the strange hat, unsettling nearly everyone. It was always uncomfortable to listen to the hat’s hoarse voice, no matter how many times you’d heard it before. After it finished, McGonagall picked the hat up.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted.” the Transfigurations professor called, looking expectantly at the group of first-years. “Abbott, Hannah!”

The girl in question hurried over, wearing a small, nervous grin just like the rest of them. McGonagall gestured for them to sit on the stout wooden stool, which they did. Lowering the ragged hat, it sat on the new student’s head for about three seconds before yelling in that oddly human voice it had: “HUFFLEPUFF!”

The table of the said house burst into cheers, welcoming Hannah with open arms and wild cries. 

It continued like this for a good ten minutes before they got to a certain someone’s name.

“Draco Malfoy,” McGonagall announced. 

He took a deep breath and donned a smirk, striding over to the stool. After a moment, the dingy hat was dropped carefully onto his slicked-back hair. 

_ Well, hello there, young Malfoy. _

Fear flashed through Draco’s mind before he settled, realizing it was the hat.  _ Um, hello? _

_ You are the most recent in a long line of Slytherins, as I’m sure you’re aware.  _

_ And I’m going to be just like them _ , Draco thought to the hat, ever so prideful of his lineage.

A chuckle sounded from the hat, rumbling weirdly around his mind.  _ Now, now, isn’t this interesting. Are you really so sure about that? _

_ Of course, I am _ , the blond huffed indignantly.  _ It’s not like there’s another option for the Malfoy scion. I have to keep up the reputation. _

_ Ah, but is that the house that fits you the best, child? I’ve had so many like you come through here, so many that believed they knew where they would go. _ Another chuckle echoed through.  _ I don’t simply go with those preconceptions, you see. I have a bit of the future in my line of vision, just enough to help. And memories—yes, your memories—I could see them all the moment I touched your head, young Malfoy.  _

Draco’s breath stuttered.  _ But that doesn’t mean I have to go to a different house. I’ve grown up a Slytherin and I will be one. Everyone knows that. _

The hat sighed, as if sad for some reason.  _ I do not sort children based on family or teachings, as I’m sure I mentioned already. I sort by how you think, the way you prioritize, what you value. And, now, if I get to the actual sorting bit, I find you’ll work best in- _

The next word wasn’t spoken directly into Draco’s head like the rest of the conversation had been. It was proclaimed loudly to the Great Hall, informing everyone of the hat’s decision.

“GRYFFINDOR,” it shouted, shocking everyone who had previously been aware of the Malfoy name, as well as many who had previously met Draco.

“Go sit down, dear,” prodded Professor McGonagall, looking a bit worried at how pale the young boy’s face had just gotten. 

Draco stood, barely aware of how much less cheering there was for him than for the other new students who’d been sorted. Stepping over to the Gryffindor table, he sat at an open space.

“Hey, mate, wasn’t that surprising,” a dark-haired boy piped up, poking Draco’s shoulder. “First Malfoy not in Slytherin, huh?”

Draco tried swallowing the lump in his throat, but it wouldn’t go away. 

“Are you alright?” asked a second student, fidgeting with their tie. “You look a bit pale.”

“I’m fine,” Draco tried to assure them, sounding the opposite of assuring.

A girl across from him chimed in next, “I think he’s in a bit of shock. Diverging from daddy’s footsteps and all that.”

“Shut up, Darcy,” another student scolded, swatting their friend on the shoulder. “He’s clearly not okay, making remarks like that doesn’t help.”

The Gryffindor table only quieted as McGonagall called another name, which happened to be a popular one.

“Harry Potter!”

They immediately began talking again, this time about The Boy Who Lived. The raggedy hat sat on Potter’s head for almost four minutes, getting the closest so far this year to a hat stall. After a pause, it shouted out the house everyone had anticipated: 

“GRYFFINDOR!”

The raven-haired boy shuffled over to the table, sitting down not far from Draco. The older students around him were split on what reaction to have about Harry Potter sitting next to them—some with awe in their eyes and dropped jaws, others asking questions as fast as they could push the words out, still more just laughing and smirking and bragging to the other houses. They had the Chosen One, how could they be beaten now?

Draco, ever the outlier, tried to ignore the new presence at the table. He already felt ashamed for the terrible interaction they’d had earlier, at Madam Malkin’s, and Potter sitting only a few feet away was not quite helping the situation. His emotional wellness was a bit under the weather at the moment, too, as his father was sure to disown him as soon as he heard the news.

Sooner than Draco expected, everyone was dismissed from the Great Hall. Following the prefect (he was obviously a Weasley, just look at those robes and that awful red mop topping his head), the first years headed up to Gryffindor Tower. 

The entrance was hidden behind a large painting. The portrait was of a lady in a pink dress whose dimensions rather matched the size of the canvas. 

“Caput Draconis,” the prefect Weasley said. Turning around to address the group of children behind him, he continued in that loud, arrogant voice, “This is the Fat Lady. To enter the Gryffindor common rooms, you must tell her the password.”

As if on cue, the painting hinged open, revealing their first glimpse of where they would be staying for the next seven years. Draco chuckled to himself.  _ Except for me _ , he reasoned,  _ I don’t belong in this house _ .

Then they all stepped through the wall’s gaping hole and Draco forgot to hate it.

The Gryffindor common room was both exactly as he’d expected and, at the same time, nothing like it. There were warm-colored rugs covering the floor, all different patterns and shapes and sizes. Haphazard furniture was strewn across the space: a few armchairs over there, a lamp and two tables here, a pile of cushions and blankets tucked into a corner. There were students playing wizard’s chess and catching up after not seeing each other all summer, some laughing, some crying, all joyful. Every wall was decorated with pinned up papers and posters, a broad and completely cluttered corkboard between the staircases on the opposite side of the room. Even the ceiling was busy—windows full of stars that would let sunlight stream in during the day, owls soaring down and up and every which way to and from an open hatch in the very center of the roof. 

Draco had been so prepared to despise every single bit of it, but, now, that wouldn’t be the truth. No, the truth would be closer to admitting the fact that it looked—and, Merlin, even  _ smelled _ —like a home. Nothing at all like how the Manor was, all the way down in Wiltshire, all cold and lonely, everything set perfectly into its place and never moved until it was needed. No, not at all. The common room was lively and warm in a marvelous way that nowhere Draco had ever been before was.

A shove to his shoulder threw him out of his thoughts, forcing him to glance up to-

“Hey, Malfoy, watcha looking at? Realising how outnumbered you are?” The voice belonged to the younger Weasley, the one who’d been sitting with Harry Potter on the train earlier. “How’d you even get in here, everyone knows you’re really a snake.”

The boy’s words cut deeper than Draco was expecting. It almost hurt to cut the redhead back, but it wasn’t like there was another choice. “Well, at least you know that Gryffindor is a wretched place where only weasels like you and your ilk can stay. Everyone knows Malfoys belong in better places.” 

The boy stepped forward, raising his arms as if to fight. “How dare you-” 

“Ronald, calm down. You had better not be fighting on the first day,” the Weasley with the prefect badge interjected, leveling a glare at his younger brother.

“But he-”

“And I’m sure you started it, as you’re prone to doing.” A single eyebrow lifted, looking quite annoyed. “Up to bed. Now.”

An indignant huff, then Weasley was gone.

“I apologize for my brother, he’s a bit abrasive. Fits well in this House, though, I suppose.” It seemed as if the older boy was talking to  _ him _ . “You’re the Malfoy boy, right? Lucius’ son.”

Draco nodded after a pause.

“I’ve been working at the Ministry in an internship during the summer and met him a few times. I’m sure you’re just as much a pleasure to meet as he was.”

Now Draco was a bit confused. His father? A pleasure to meet? He couldn’t imagine a world in which those two phrases went together. “Of course,” he said instead. “You seem like the type of person he might like.” Draco had no idea what type of person his father liked. It definitely wasn’t Draco, most of the time.

The Weasley beamed as if Draco had just told him he’d won a million galleons. “Well, if you think so! I’m Percy Weasley, it’s been nice talking with you. Now, I have to attend to my responsibilities as a prefect. Maybe you can tell me more about your father and his work at the Ministry later!”

Before he could tell the Weasley that he had no idea where the Ministry even was, Draco was left alone, standing amongst the chaos of the common room by himself.

Or not. An abnormally short, raven-haired boy stood not two meters away, looking just as lost. His glasses didn’t seem to be helping a lot, either.

“Weren’t your glasses fixed at dinner?”

Harry Potter flinched, staring at Draco like he’d appeared out of nowhere. Which was silly because they couldn’t get their apparition licenses until they were seventeen.

“Yes?”

“How’d they break again?”

He stared at Draco, eyes wide. “Uh, on our way up… I nearly fell getting out of the boat and they slipped off.”

“You need new glasses. Those ones are too big for your face and, frankly, don’t look very flattering.”  _ It was honestly the nicest thing anyone could do to let the boy know just how awful those round things were _ , Draco thought.

Instead, he somehow looked a bit offended. “They’re the only way I can see.”

“Obviously. Otherwise you wouldn’t have picked those frames,” he muttered back, crossing his arms. 

“Are you just going to stand there and insult me? Is that it? Do you not have things to do, other than bullying people? Maybe you  _ do _ belong in Slytherin, after all.” Potter turned away, making to follow the younger Weasley up the stairs.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that Slytherin is a perfectly fine House, probably even better than here! I should be happy you think that of me!” Draco yelled after the boy, his eyes burning. Spinning the opposite direction, he frowned and blinked just a little more than normal. It wouldn’t do to let these  _ lions _ know anything about him. He muttered to himself, “Besides, I was trying to be nice.”

“That’s not how you’re supposed to be nice,” an unfamiliar voice said.

“Well, what would  _ you _ know about being nice,” Draco seethed, whirling around. “You’re just another Gryffindor with no self preservation and a reckless streak the size of the sky! Not like any of  _ you _ would take the time to learn how to be nice, much less  _ have manners _ .”

The boy holding a fat green frog blinked at this. He looked like he was also a first-year, if the baby fat still clinging to his cheeks was any indication. “I’m pretty sure what House you’re in doesn’t influence your ability to be polite. That falls on your parents. Clearly, yours weren’t the best teachers.”

“How dare you insult my parents! I am a Malfoy, one of the most esteemed Wizarding families. My parents are perfectly competent, thank you very much. _And_ we generally have better traits than being foolish and making rash decisions.” 

An unimpressed stare was all he got back. “I’m going up to bed now. You can stay down here and stew in your anger issues, if you’d like. Goodnight.”

Draco found himself left  _ yet again _ in the middle of the common room. It hadn’t been ten minutes and he’d already alienated most of his roommates. That was the opposite of what a Malfoy should do.

_ Merlin-fucking-damnit _ , he thought, wiping a tear that he was sure had come from how tired he was.  _ I’m terrible at this. I can’t even be a proper Malfoy when I’m surrounded by snakes, much less lions. _

Wrapping his arms around himself, Draco slowly made his way to his new dorm room before he could get in any more fights.


	2. Hermione Granger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, now, we get Draco’s first acquaintance that actually sort of appreciates him! :D
> 
> (sometimes)

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, only the tiniest bit of chill seeping in through the thick stone walls.

Draco had woken that morning to find the rest of the boys sleeping. He’d taken advantage of the quiet to get his morning routine done, taking even more time than usual making sure he looked his best. Despite the way the red and gold made his skin look even pastier.

He had decided, last night, after laying in bed for a while, that he was going to be the best Malfoy he could while he was stranded in Gryffindor. It wouldn’t do to get resorted into Slytherin just to find nobody respected him or his family anymore. Therefore, he was going to be perfect.

He had to be.

His determined thinking was interrupted when one of the other first-year boys began to wake. A hand moved out from under blankets, scrabbling to grab round-framed glasses off a nightstand. After they’d been jammed onto his face, Potter (because Draco was  _ not _ calling him by his first name after last night, they were definitely not on good enough terms for that) sat up and yawned, throwing his blankets to the side haphazardly.

When he caught sight of Draco, he scowled, then turned away to ignore him.

Draco didn’t mind all that much, seeing as how they’d left things.

Only an hour passed before it was time to head down to breakfast. In that time, while the other boys were waking up and getting ready, Draco sat at one of the desks and pulled out a quill. His father would have to be told about what had happened. 

By the time he finished writing and sealed the letter, most of the other boys were awake and ready. Weasley had woken up last, and he was still blinking away the bleariness as they headed down to breakfast in a clump. 

Potter and Weasley sat together, having met yesterday on the train. The other three boys were sandwiched between them and a bushy-haired girl, leaving Draco a seat by himself. 

The food was just as good as it had been the night before. It must’ve been the house-elves’ work, the ones that lived at Hogwarts all year round. There were all kinds of foods, including Draco’s favorites. He was just digging into a thick slice of french toast when the girl next to him spoke.

“What class do you have first?” Her face was wide-open with curiosity, though Draco didn’t quite understand why.

He scowled at her. “We’re both in Gryffindor, and I’m assuming you’re a first-year with that knowledge, so we’re going to be in the same classes.”

Her face lit up, eyes widening. “Oh, that would make sense. Well, nice to meet you. My name is Hermione Granger.”

“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. I suppose it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her handshake was firm, almost exactly how his father had said handshakes should be, despite her obvious lack of pure blood. 

She smiled. “I’ll see you in class, then, Draco Malfoy.”

He scoffed.

* * *

The potions classroom was dark and musty. There were twelve desks, each seating two children. Shelves lined the walls, all full with ingredients and potions. It was their first class as Hogwarts students and it happened to be with the Slytherins. 

Draco sat on the opposite side of the room from them. He couldn’t bear the thought of how they would make fun of him after his Sorting, even though he’d been friends with most of them since birth. 

“Hey,” Hermione’s voice asked, her hand tapping his shoulder. “You wouldn’t mind if I sat here, right?”

He glanced up to see her smiling. “I guess not. As if like anyone else would’ve wanted to.”

She sniffed. “That’s a terrible way to view things.”

“It’s reality,” Draco drawled, raising an eyebrow in the way his father had taught him. “Ever heard of the truth?”

“I have, actually. I once researched how the concept of truth affects our values and society. It was quite the interesting read.” The edges of her mouth tilted up. “It’s also how I know when someone’s lying, Draco. Why  _ did _ you think it wasn’t a pleasure to meet me? Is it because I’m a mudblood?”

Gasps filtered in from the rest of the class at that. Everyone who knew what that word meant was staring. The ones who didn’t know were being quickly educated by their peers.

“Is that a bad reason?” Draco stared back at her, mimicking the determination she wore.

After a minute or two, their staring contest was broken by the office door slamming open. Professor Severus Snape strode in, robes swishing elegantly. He began his speech as he strode around the room. “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic.” At this, he glared around the room, pausing on Draco for a second, and, then, on Harry for even longer, his eyes narrowing at the second boy. “I don’t expect you to really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach. ”

While he was talking, Hermione was glaring at the table in front of her. She was muttering to herself, “I can’t believe my first friend is a stuck-up racist. I should’ve just agreed to be in Ravenclaw. At least they’re  _ smart _ over there.”

“Excuse me, Miss Granger? Is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Snape stood directly in front of their desk, scowling down at the girl.

She shook her head furiously, blanching. “No, sir.”

“Well, maybe you’d like to answer some questions to start the lesson. I was planning on asking our resident celebrity—” He turned to glare at Potter. “—but then I realized he probably wouldn’t know any of the answers. Fame isn’t everything. So, Miss Granger, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

She blinked. “The Draught of Living Death, a sleeping-”

“Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?” He’d cut her off, clearly not expecting an answer, let alone the correct one.

Hermione hesitated, pursing her lips. After a moment, and right before Snape opened his mouth again, she answered. “The stomach of a goat, sir.”

His eyes narrowed even further. “And, Miss Granger, since you already know so much, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Her eyes twinkled dangerously as she replied immediately. “They’re the same plant, Professor. Also known as aconite. And, sir, if I may ask, why are you quizzing me from the fourth year curriculum?”

Snape quirked an eyebrow. “I simply wanted to know how far ahead you’d read, considering you thought it was perfectly fine to ignore me while I was talking earlier. Five points from Gryffindor for impudence, Miss Granger.” Raising his voice, he spun to rest of the class, robe flouncing. “That will be all. Class is dismissed.”

From the other side of the classroom, Potter whispered to Weasley, “That was brutal. At least he didn’t ask me, I didn’t know any of those.”

“Me neither, mate. Maybe we should have studied a little bit.”

Draco scoffed, packing his things. Everyone was starting to filter out of the classroom and to their next class. All of the Gryffindors had History of Magic, which only Hermione seemed excited for. Everyone else had been told by their elder siblings and parents about how terrible the class was or didn’t like history anyway. 

Hermione sat next to him again and rambled about what she’d learned about magical history in books while the class went as expected. Professor Binns caused at least four people to fall asleep. Draco had spent the class doodling on a spare sheet of parchment. 

“Oh, that’s pretty good,” Lavender Brown said from over his shoulder.

Draco looked back to find her pointing at the drawing of Hermione’s side profile. It was messily done, filled with sketch marks, but still held onto an edge of realism. After a pause, he realized he hadn’t responded. “Thanks?”

She just smiled before leaving the classroom.

As Draco wondered how he’d missed that class ended, Hermione started pulling him up. “Come on, we’ll be late. Get moving.”

“We have lunch next. How are we going to be late to _lunch_?”

She continued dragging him out of the classroom without acknowledging his response. Draco sighed, letting himself get dragged to the Great Hall.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far, this is updating weekly on Fridays, if you care
> 
> Leave a kudos or comment if you want :]


	3. First-Year Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep accidentally making them a little ooc, but I hope it’s not too bad lol
> 
> Also, if you can’t tell, some parts I’m taking from canon and others I’m not, so it’s a tossup what’ll come next.  
> Reality is but a buffet of choices <3

The rest of the first few days went smoothly, Hermione sitting next to him in most of them. Draco’s father hadn’t yet responded to his letter, but there was still hope. It’s only been two days since he’d sent it. 

So far, they’d had almost all of their classes at least once. Potions with Snape, which seemed to be everyone’s least favorite class. The professor tended to indulge in dangerous amounts of favoritism, making the Gryffindors hate him almost more than he hated them. 

History of Magic wasn’t too bad if you read the textbook. Everyone took the opportunity for a nap while they could. In Herbology, they’d begun with just lectures about plants, proper care for them, and how to be safe in a magical greenhouse. The teacher was nice and seemed to treat everyone equally, which was surprising, as Professor Sprout was also the Head of a House. Less surprising was the fact that such a kind person was from Hufflepuff.

As for Transfiguration, they had it with the Ravenclaws. This meant that Hermione sat with them instead of Draco. Her only other acquaintance was a Ravenclaw girl Draco hadn’t cared about enough to know the name of. He’d had to quickly figure out which of their fellow students was the least annoying and wasn’t sitting with anyone yet. The only one left was Neville Longbottom, which definitely wasn’t the _worst_ choice. The boy was a pureblood and a bit clumsy, but the problem with his magic was obviously his wand and not his ability. Whoever had decided he shouldn’t get a new wand was a dunce. 

Charms and their other classes weren’t as dull as History of Magic, but they weren’t anything special, other than how short Professor Flitwick was. There had been an uproar when he fell off his stack of books and couldn’t be seen behind his desk for roughly ten minutes.

The only class they hadn’t yet had was Flying, or Broom Flight. Draco hadn’t been able to fly at all so far this year, and was understandably excited for the lesson. It was the only time first years were allowed to ride brooms during school. 

He and Hermione were heading to the Quidditch pitch right now for the class. While they walked, Hermione was telling him more things she’d learned about wizarding history.

“And I’m not even a fan of Quidditch, considering I’ve never even seen someone on a broom, but from what I’ve read, women were really important in the history of it. One witch, Jocunda Sykes, she flew across the entire Atlantic Ocean on a broom! Isn’t that amazing?”

“That is pretty cool, I guess,” Draco said, inspecting his nails.

“Are you even listening to me?” Hermione asked as she poked him in the shoulder. 

He looked up, raising his eyebrow. “Of course, you were regaling me with facts about…” He waved a hand, grimacing. “Wizarding history?”

“Well, did you hear what I said? Someone flew across the Atlantic on a  _ broom _ . Doesn’t that make you think at all?” 

“Oh,” Draco blinked. “On a broom? Isn’t that too long though? How’d they eat? How did they--” He cringed. “How’d they go to the bathroom?”

Now even Hermione looked dumbstruck. “Oh my God. How did this even happen?” She straightened up, eyes glinting. “I need to know more about this immediately.”

Before she could sprint in the direction of books, Draco grabbed her arm and pulled her along the hallway, away from the library. “First, we need to go to our flying lessons. Maybe we’ll get some information about it out of that, right? Come on, let’s go.”

Hermione rambled the whole way there, only stopping once they got to the Quidditch pitch. Half of the Slytherins were already there, along with a few of the other Gryffindors. The teacher was still missing, so all the eleven-year-olds were grouped with their friends. 

Pansy Parkinson, one of the Slytherins, was smirking as she talked with two of the boys—Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. The three occasionally shot glances at the lions, their eyes catching on Draco the most.

He sneered in their direction before turning to Hermione. “So, what did you think of the Charms lesson? I was expecting a few more people at least to get it right.” 

“Well, the Levitation charm isn’t the easiest.” She scowled, muttering under her breath, “And if you’re a stupid prat, even pronounciation is a problem.” 

She’d been paired with Ron Weasley in the class, prompting her to consider homicide as a viable option. The boy had been doing the charm wrong, ignoring the lesson and Hermione’s help, then insulted her the whole time. 

“He deserves to be expelled if this is how he’s going to act,” Draco drawled. 

Hermione glared at the redhead, then nodded sharply. “That would be fair.”

The blond boy was speechless. Around him, the teacher walked in and the class stopped their tittering, but he just stood there, mouth agape.  _ Hermione Granger _ ? Agreeing that expulsion was a fair punishment? Did someone kidnap and replace the girl?

He didn’t have any more time to worry about the prospect as they were called to attention.

“Alright, kiddoes, listen up. Stand next to one of the brooms on the ground, but  _ do not touch them yet _ .” She watched them carefully as they did so. Once every child was next to a broom, she gave her next order, “Hold out your dominant hand over the broom and say ‘up’. If the broom does not come to you, wait for my assistance.”

Draco grinned smugly as he got it on the first try. On the other side of the line, Harry Potter and Parvati Patil also got it quickly. Theo Nott and Hermione were next, then the rest of the class. No one got stuck without their broom for more than a few minutes, Gregory Goyle being the longest. 

Madam Hooch cleared her throat. “Now, shift your broom to standing over it. Like so,” she demonstrated the concept. “Do not move from there until I tell you to.”

As she went to everyone, correcting grips and stances, Draco tried to recall how his flight instructor had taught him. It had been years ago, just another forgotten lesson. Now, when she came around, she had to fix his grip, making embarrassment bloom in his stomach. A few kids laughed, as most of the first years knew by now how superior he acted.

Just as Madam Hooch moved away, a shriek came from the other end of the lines. When Draco looked up, Longbottom was speeding across the sky. He’d clearly kicked off too soon and lost control of his broom, starting a zig-zag race through the air.  _ This had no way of ending well _ , Draco thought.

Madam Hooch grabbed the nearest broom, which happened to be in Hermione’s hands, and sprinted over to approximately beneath where the boy was right now. Before even stopping, she kicked off and jumped into the air, ascending as fast as she could.

Longbottom started falling before she was halfway to him. His screams were loud and terrified as he hurtled towards the ground at an alarming rate. 

Madam Hooch couldn’t fully catch him, just grasping his wrist, but she slowed his descent enough to lower him safely to the ground. The whole class watched with wide eyes as she asked if he was okay. His reply was quiet enough that they couldn’t hear, but it was clear enough by how the teacher yelled for them to behave until she got back. 

The two set off towards the castle, leaving the class alone with their brooms. 

“Well, this is a productive lesson,” Blaise drawled.

Silence covered the class after that comment, until-

“What the fuck?” Potter asked, looking disgusted. “Neville just got hurt. Don’t make a joke about it!”

Theo cut in, raising a finger. “We don’t actually know for sure if he got hurt or not, and Blaise was just making a statement about the lesson in general. Nothing offensive there.”

Potter’s face was darkening, Weasley already tugging his shoulder back. No one had made a move to fight, but the Chosen One had the look of someone who was very close to throwing a punch.

“Oh, hey,” Pansy said from their other side. “What’s this?” She held up a round, smoky orb. 

Longbottom’s Remembrall.

“Give that to me, I can get it to Neville,” Potter seethed, surging forward and out of Weasley’s grasp. “Give it here.”

Pansy’s eyes narrowed, lip curling up slightly. “I don’t think I will. It could be helpful, and he left it here himself. It’s free reign now.”

“That’s not how it works and you know it.”

She blinked innocently. “Do I?”

“I’d like to believe you do, but clearly you’re not decent enough to admit it.” He stuck out a hand again. “Let’s have a contest for it.”

“Merlin, you’re such a Gryffindor.” Pansy’s eyes rolled, a hand coming up to tap against her chin. “What do you propose?”

Draco sighed, looking away from their squabble. Pansy had been toeing the line of cruelty ever since he’d known her, and with Potter’s recklessness and pride, this had no way of going well, much like Longbottom’s fall. “Granger, what do you think of heading back inside? You could get the chance to read up about transatlantic broom travel theory.”

She glanced at him, then back to the scene unfolding a few meters away. “Is it really a good idea to leave? A teacher might notice, then we’d get in trouble-”

“Fine, then let’s go ask a teacher. McGonagall’s classroom isn’t too far. We can probably tell her supervision is needed over here while we’re at it.” He was already walking towards the castle.

“God, Draco, stop walking away from me. You’re such a prick sometimes,” she huffed, dropping her broom and catching up. “Let’s go, someone’s definitely going to get hurt in the next five minutes.”

They walked most of the way in silence, checking over their shoulders every now and then. Just as they were about to open the doors to the castle, Hermione gasped. “Oh, they’re getting on their brooms. That’s really not good, come on! Now we definitely need to get McGonagall!”

Together, they sprinted down the corridor, barely avoiding Mrs. Norris, as the cat had walked out in front of them. Thankfully, they got to the Transfiguration professor in record time, Hermione stumbling over herself to explain while Draco patted his robes down. Sprinting was never fun, especially at the expense of ruining an outfit or a hairstyle.

“-And they were just getting on their brooms when we left, it’s not bound to go well, someone had to tell a teacher-”

“Of course, Miss Granger,” McGonagall said, standing. She walked around her desk, heading for the door when Draco pointed at the window. While they’d been talking, Pansy had thrown the Remembrall in the direction of the castle. It was almost impossible to catch from Potter’s angle and height, but he dived perfectly to save it, in full view from the professor’s office.

“We had better be going,” McGonagall sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She began to talk as they hurried out of the room. “After all, who else would deal with the Gryffindors? Always causing problems, getting hurt, going on adventures. Except for you two, you’re very good students. I haven’t had to worry at all, both of you deserve a biscuit for that.”

Draco grinned smugly as they made their way to the library, a pass from McGonagall in Hermione’s hands.

It was so nice knowing Potter was considered a problematic student while he was considered a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be up soon!
> 
> Kudos and comment, if you please~


	4. Dueling in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more of Draco Being A Brat and other fun things....

Potter ended up with two weeks of detention, but also managed to get onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a first-year. 

Draco had fumed for the entire day after hearing that. He’d been flying since age seven and wasn’t allowed, but  _ Potter _ , whose first time on a broom was  _ yesterday _ , got to be on the team? That was a blatant bias toward the Chosen One, Gryffindor extraordinaire, and everyone knew it.

The golden boy and his weasel had been celebrating Potter’s new position until late, keeping the rest of the boys awake. It had been past midnight before Draco could get any sleep. Which, of course, made him even more crabby than usual.

“Are you telling me,” Draco asked _calmly_ , because he was _extremely_ _calm_ at the moment, “that there aren’t any scones left?” 

Hermione smiled, ignoring his deepening scowl. “That’s right.”

“I’m going to viscerally murder someone if I do not get a scone in the next five seconds.” 

Longbottom looked up sharply from where he sat on Draco’s other side, paling immediately. “What?”

Patil, on the opposite side of the table, replied without looking up, ”He doesn’t mean it literally, Neville. It’s a figure of speech.” 

Draco slammed a hand on the table. “I’ll show you a figure of speech-”

“You already did,” she said drily, waving a hand. 

His face reddened. “I-”

“Draco, shut up.” Hermione interrupted. “We got it, you didn’t get your beauty sleep last night and now you’re being a brat about what you want to eat. Now, please calm down so we can get back to having a peaceful breakfast.” 

As she talked, Potter and Weasley sat down at the table a few seats away.

She sighed. “Nevermind, peaceful breakfasts are clearly being thwarted by the universe today.”

Standing up, Draco leaned over to the Ravenclaw table to grab one of their cherry scones, prompting an offended noise from the closest student. He sauntered over to where Potter and Weasley were sitting, glaring as hard as he could at them.

“You two kept me awake all night.”

They turned around, Weasley looking confused. Potter cringed, raising a hand to shift his glasses. “Sorry, we were really excited. I promise it won’t happen again-“

“What, did we make you lose your beauty sleep?” Weasley jabbed, ignoring his friend’s politeness and sneering.

Draco’s glare darkened. “I challenge you to a duel. Tonight, midnight. See you twats then.”

When he got back to his original seat, Hermione was giving him a dry look. “Duels are illegal in modern wizarding society.”

“And?” 

She grinned. “Can I be your second? I’ve never seen a duel before!”

* * *

When Draco sat up to snuck out of the dorm later that night, Potter was awake and staring at him. The blond immediately flinched backward, asking, “Were you just sitting here and watching me?” 

Potter’s eyes widened, his hands coming up to gesture wildly. “No, I- I was just waiting for Ron to wake up. You started moving, so I saw that, obviously,” he laughed awkwardly. 

Draco just raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”

A beat of silence passed.

“So, uh, I was wondering,” Potter said. “How do duels actually work? Ron hasn’t told me yet.”

“If we’re going to be talking,” Draco sighed, “we should probably do it downstairs. The other boys might wake up if we talk here.”

The other boy stood and followed him down the stairs without complaint. At the bottom, in the common room, they found Hermione reading a book on the couch. 

“Oh, I was wondering when you guys would get here. Is Ron awake yet?” She somehow managed to make the redhead’s name sound like an insult. 

“No, he was still asleep when we left,” Harry replied. After a moment, he lit up. “Hey, Hermione, you know a lot of stuff, right? Draco was gonna explain how to duel when we came down, but you’d probably have more information on it.”

Draco almost groaned out loud, knowing that Hermione would soon be on a rant about the topic. It would be hard to get her to stop after she started.

“I’d love to, Harry. Now, what is it you don’t know?”

”Everything?”

Draco tuned out the rest of the conversation, looking at a book on the table. It didn’t look like any book he was used to, missing the thick leather and dusty, warped pages. It was sleek and new, with flimsy covers and thin paper. Picking it up, he sat down to see what was inside.

The first page seemed to be about a boy in something called a  _ high school _ ? Why would a school be high? And what was an  _ email _ ? 

“Draco, you ready?” 

He pulled himself away from reading the confusing story, blinking at Hermione owlishly. “Hmm?”

“Ron’s awake. We can go duel now,” she said, bouncing a little in her seat. “I can’t believe I’ll get to see a real duel. An  _ illegal _ duel, but a duel nonetheless!”

“You do realize this won’t be a very exciting duel, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, he’s right,” Harry said. “I mean, I don’t even really want to fight? That’s just Ron and Draco. And I also just learned how to duel?”

Weasley stomped over, stifling a yawn. “Harry, you  _ have _ to do this! Malfoy challenged us, we can’t back out now. It would be a dishonor!”

“As if a blood-traitor like you had any honor to begin with,” Draco muttered.

Uncrossing his arms, Weasley’s mouth fell open. “Wow! The Death Eater is calling the perfectly normal wizard dishonorable. How dare you-”

“First of all,” Draco sneered, cutting Weasley off and poking his finger into his chest, “I am not a Death Eater. And neither were my parents. My mother never even took the Dark Mark and they were both under  _ imperio _ ! How dare  _ you _ accuse us of that!”

He didn’t mention how he wasn’t sure that his parents would even be his parents much longer, because that would be showing weakness. Malfoys didn’t show weakness.

Even if they weren’t Malfoys any longer.

Weasley raised his fist, shouting, “Everyone knows that’s a lie, you wanker!”

“How about we calm down,” Hermione interjected, sliding between them. “If you guys still want to fight, we can go duel somewhere that it won’t wake everyone else up, okay? I think the Trophy Room is a good enough place for it.”

They both glared at each other before nodding. 

“That last one didn’t even make any sense,” Draco hissed quietly to the redhead.

Before the other could react, Hermione’s eyes were glaring at them as she held both of the boys’ arms tightly. “Let’s start walking.”

No more words were said as the four students traipsed out of the Gryffindor common room, heading down the staircase for the Trophy Room. 

The castle was chilling and cold at night, the long corridors eerily empty, the stone freezing beneath their feet. They moved as silently as possible, despite how ready to fight two of them had been only minutes before. Every creak and footstep made them pale and hurry to the nearest hiding spot. 

While piled themselves behind a set of armor because Weasley thought he saw a shadow, Hermione decided to bring up a question they had all been pondering. 

“Hey, what did you guys get for question seven on the Transfiguration homework? I wasn’t too sure of the answer and I just want to check.”

“What the hell, Granger,” Draco whispered back. “Why would you ask that now, of all times?”

Potter nodded. “Yeah, we’re sneaking around the castle and losing sleep because Draco lost sleep last night. Why are you asking now?”

“Pardon me? How is this  _ my fault _ -”

“I think,” Weasley piped up, “that the creepy caretaker guy is walking down the hallway.”

They all grimaced, remembering how the man had been the first time they’d seen him, and every time since.

“Um… Doesn’t he have a cat, too?” 

Their eyes widened almost comically as a cat padded silently past where they were hiding.

Four sets of even wider eyes watched when Filch himself lumbered just behind the cat. None of them moved an inch until a glowing outline of a figure popped out of the wall next to them. 

“Hmm, always fun to find ickle firsties sneaking around! Hey, Filch, I found some goodies for you! Perfectly healthy and rule breaking ones!” it screeched, smirking evilly.

They ran.

It was a few corridors later they realized they had no idea where they were going. Thankfully, there was a door only a few meters away. Hermione reached it first, jiggling the handle roughly and looking like she was about to cry. “It’s locked, we’re going to get expelled, oh my God, I’m going to get expelled-”

“Move over, are you not a witch?” Weasley shoved her aside, pointing his wand at the lock and casting, “ _ Alohamora! _ ”

The door fell open beneath Hermione’s weight, the boys piling in after her. By the time the door was shut and everyone was inside, she had stood and locked the door again. They began to look around, realizing it was nearly pitch black. Hermione held up her wand, now reminded of the existence of magic.

Just before she cast a light, Weasley asked, “Isn’t this the hallway we were supposed to stay away from?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) don’t you love cliffhangers :)


	5. Oh My God, It’s A Cerberus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day late! I completely forgot about it, oops
> 
> The next chapter is halfway done, at least, so I’m planning on updating it early :p

“Is that a cerberus!?”

The question was screeched after the few moments their eyes had taken to get adjusted to the light, in regards to the enormous three-headed dog staring at them from the other side of the room.

“I believe that is the correct name for it,” Hermione whispered, a nervous chuckle following the words. “Though, I have to say, there wasn’t anything listed in the book about how to, uh, stop them.”

Draco felt the blood drain from his face. “ _ Stop them _ … From what, exactly?”

“Oh, Merlin,” Weasley squeaked, “they’re going to eat us.”

Hermione laughed again, sounding even more hysterical this time. “Yep.”

Whirling around, Draco ripped open the door and began to sprint.

“Oh my  _ God _ ,” Hermione yelled, before he heard her footsteps begin to follow. There was a pause before the same door slammed shut and two more sets of footsteps began running.

It took a full minute of racing down the empty hallways and jogging up staircases before they arrived back at the common rooms. Harry got there first, and despite the head start Draco had gotten, he came in dead last. 

Hermione was tapping her foot and crossing her arms by the time he regained his breath. “What,” she asked, “did I tell you about leaving me behind?”

“Not to?” he guessed, not really remembering the conversation.

She glared. “That’s right. And what, may I ask, did you just do?”

He grimaced. “I left you behind.”

“Good, so you know what you did wrong. Don’t do it again.” She kicked his shin as she walked away, heading up the staircase to the girls’ dormitories.

A snicker came from Weasley, whose face was still almost as red as his hair. “Wow, you listen to a  _ girl _ ?”

“No, Weaselbee,” Draco sneered, straightening. “I listen to someone who’s smarter than you and could probably take over the world if they wanted to. Piss off, you bigoted mysoginist.”

He decided to take a card from Hermione’s deck and left to go back upstairs, ignoring the spitting and sputtering of the angered redhead. 

He changed out of his robes and brushed his teeth, trying to do it as quietly as possible. Still, when he got into bed, he noticed Longbottom sitting up in the bed next to his, clearly waiting for something. He sighed, turning to the clumsy boy. “What do you want?”

“Oh! Um, I was just… I wanted,” he hesitated, “to know how the duel went. Did anyone get hurt?”

“Yes, I killed Potter and put Weasley in the hospital,” Draco deadpanned.

Longbottom looked horrified.

“Merlin’s left tit, did you really believe that? I was being sarcastic.” Draco pulled his blankets up farther. “We didn’t actually duel, if that makes you feel better. We just ran far too much and almost got in trouble. An extremely unpleasant night, you wouldn’t have wanted to be there.”

The boy nodded, smiling a little and laying down. “Okay. See you tomorrow, Draco.”

Draco blinked. “First of all,” he started, sitting up again, “it is  _ already _ tomorrow. And second of all, I did not give you permission to call me by first name!”

Longbottom just hummed and rolled over.

“Excuse me?” he gasped, ready to argue. But there was no response, the only noise in the dorm being the footfalls of Potter and Weasley coming up the stairs and the soft hooting of an owl nearby. After a few moments of indignance, Draco laid back down. “Fine, be that way.”

He fell asleep shortly after, wondering if, maybe, he did have friends.

* * *

By the end of October, Draco still hadn’t gotten a reply from his parents. 

There was a growing fear that, maybe, they’d already decided they didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. After all, he  _ was _ a Gryffindor. It was disgraceful enough without adding in the fact that his only close acquaintance was a mudblood. And his grades weren’t even the highest in the year!

Since the first day of school and his Sorting, Draco had been functioning on the hope that his father would find a way to put him in Slytherin. That, maybe, his parents could still  ~~ love him ~~ be proud of him. 

It was harder to believe that those things might happen as the months passed. When he finally had the revelation that he might never be the perfect Slytherin son his parents wanted, he’d frozen in shock at the dinner table. 

He’s been in Gryffindor for two months already, why would his father wait that long to get him out? Why wouldn’t they at least send a letter, if they still wanted him?

He was snapped out of his thoughts by Hermione’s finger poking at his shoulder. “You’re looking a bit pale, there, Draco. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he said, hiding his shaky hands in his lap. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Ah--” She held up a finger, smirking. “--So you  _ do _ admit something just happened.”

“What? No, I never-”

“You clearly implied there was an ‘it’. Now, we can talk about it here, or we can talk about it somewhere private. But that,” she retorted, pointing her finger again, “was not ‘nothing to worry about’.”

He swallowed. Then, pushing his plate away, he stood. “Fine. But we’re not staying here.”

Hermione jumped up to follow him,  beaming. “Of course.”

They found an empty classroom on the next floor, coughing at the dust they stirred up just by opening the door.

“Well,” Hermione said between coughs, “at least we know no one’s going to find us here.”

Draco scowled at the dirt settling on his robes. “Disgusting.”

“Oh, come now, it’s not even that bad. My attic at home is definitely dustier, and ten times less awesome. I mean, we’re in a school for magic. That’s a great upside.” 

“How can anything be dustier than  _ this? _ ” Draco coughed again, gagging. “I think this has got to be the most dust I’ve ever seen in one place.”

Hermione just hummed, brushing off her own robes, and then the top of a slightly broken desk. Sitting down, she crossed her legs and looked at the blond expectantly. “Now. Time to talk.”

“I already told you not to worry about it,” Draco sighed, glaring at the sordid desks and chairs. After touching one and seeing the thick layer of dust, he grimaced and stayed standing. “I swear, it’s nothing important.”

“It very well is important, if it’s making you look ready to vomit at the table.” She frowned. “Look, Draco, I’d stop asking about it if I knew at least something. But you’re my friend, and I’m worried, because this seems to be affecting you-”

“We’re still not friends.”

“Whatever, I don’t care what you want to label our relationship, but you have to admit that something is wrong. People who are fine don’t just randomly go pale and start looking like they’re about to die.”

Draco opened his mouth to retort, only to be cut off by the sounds of stampeding feet in the hallway. The two first-years exchanged a glance, inching closer to the door.

“What do you think is happening?” Hermione’s voice shook a little, a hand raised to clear the window off.

“I don’t know, maybe there’s a party someone’s throwing? It is Halloween, after all,” Draco replied, trying to ignore the same hesitation in his own words.

A few moments later the corridor was empty of sounds. Everyone who’d been rushing was gone, leaving the area as fast as they’d come. As Hermione opened the door, they peered out to see... Nothing.

The hallway looked just as it had before they’d heard the noise. 

“Should we go check if something’s happened?” the bushy-haired girl whispered.

Draco nodded. “That might be a good idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “another cliffhanger?” you ask.
> 
> “yes,” i cackle, grinning evilly, “another cliffhanger.”


	6. Troll Trouble: Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late! I’ve been a little preoccupied lately and I completely forgot about it.... hahah... oops :P
> 
> Maybe next week I’ll be on time?

Together, the two walked as quietly as they could down the silent corridor. When they passed the Great Hall, the enormous room was completely quiet, not a single person left inside. It was strange to see, especially as dinnertime wasn’t technically over yet.

While they walked, they kept their ears open and their eyes watching, but there’s been no sign of anything other than cold stone and the paintings that lined the walls.

Draco stopped, almost slapping himself. The paintings! He strode over, ignoring Hermione’s quietly hissed ‘ _ what are you doing _ ‘ to find the nearest portrait.

“Do you know what’s happened? Why is there no one here?” he snapped, staring at the quivering knight.

“Please do stay quiet, young sir,” the armored man replied, looking horrified. “There’s something loose and it’s already destroyed a painting or two, please don’t make me say any more! I won’t! I have to be quiet, I have to-”

He was cut off as a low, heavy thumping came from around the corner. The knight’s eyes grew and grew, his expression paling and twisting in fear. “It’s coming,” he whispered, only to faint onto the bottom of the picture. 

“Draco, what the  _ hell _ is going on,” Hermione hissed, backing up to slide behind the nearest potted plant. “This is- this is exactly like one of those horror movies, I’ve always hated horror-”

“I don’t even know what a ‘movie’ is, Granger,” he scowled back, pushing in next to her. “But this is definitely worse.”

The thumping grew louder.

Hermione rambled through her fear, tucking herself even farther behind the plant. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. We’re going to die here. Only a few months of knowing magic exists and I’m already going to die.”

That made Draco turn to her, incredulous. “You didn’t know magic existed? But you’re a witch!”

“Muggleborns like me, and sometimes even half bloods, don’t know about the wizarding world, or even our own magic, until our letters come for Hogwarts. It was both the best and worst thing to ever happen to me, you know. I mean, there’s a reason I was always a bit different, why no one ever liked me. There’s magic! That’s great enough on its own, honestly. But learning you’re not who you thought you were? It was a terrible way to find out. They should really make a better system for that.”

“I had thought you guys knew and just ignored all our customs,” Draco scowled. It had been yet another thing to hate them for.

Hermione gasped. “What? No, that’s not it, no one’s even told me there’s specific customs or anything! All I know I’ve learned from what books I could find.”

She was about to say more, only to find a horrid stench drifting towards them. They both looked up to find a mountain troll staring directly at them.

“Yeah, we’re going to die,” Draco said. He filed away their conversation for later, wanting to return to it. For now, they had bigger issues.

The troll stomped closer, raising its club. “Aughghhhhhh,” it screamed, rage lighting its small black eyes. Its skin was a dusky, lifeless shade of gray, sagging and covered in lumps everywhere except its skull, which was smooth and hairless. Nearly twelve feet tall, the troll lumbered above them, a club half its size dragged along beside it.

The first-years cowered, raising their wands.

“What do we do,” Hermione worried, running through a list of everything she knew frantically.

Draco flicked his wand, whispering a spell he’d learned from his mother years ago. “ _ Arresto Momentum! _ ”

The troll slowed down, just enough that they could slide out from behind the plant and run. They sprinted down the hallway, fear propelling them even faster. As they reached the stairs to the second floor, another terrible sound came from the creature as it pounded down the hall after them. 

Once on the second floor, they ducked into the first room on the left, closing the door and locking it. Both of them were panting, out of breath from the exercise. 

“We were just looking for you.”

Both of the first-years screamed before realizing it was Potter and Weasley that stood across from them.

Potter winced. “Sorry. Did you guys hear about the troll? I noticed you both left before we got notice to head back to the dorms.”

“Hear about the troll?” Draco laughed darkly. “No, we  _ met _ the troll. Up close, in person. Very pleasant creature, I must say.”

“Yeah, that’s what we were just running from. I think it’s still climbing the stairs, though, so we have some time before it catches up,” Hermione commented, wringing her hands. “And, really, Draco, I know you’ve been upset lately, but joking about nearly dying is  _ not _ a good coping mechanism.”

“That doesn’t matter. Right now, we just need to find a way back to wherever the hell the rest of the bloody school is.”

Weasley grimaced. “Yeah, everyone’s moved to the dormitories. Quirrell ran into the middle of supper, screaming about the troll and whatever. After that, we were all evacuated to our dorms.”

The conversation paused for a moment, another screech echoing up to them.

“We should probably start running again,” Hermione said.

Potter nodded, moving to open the door. “I agree, it’s starting to smell worse than my cousin Dudley around here.”

Sneering, Draco followed the others into the hallway. “How bad must your relative be if this is what a mountain troll smells like? Honestly, muggles need to-”

Hermione glared. “Shut up, Draco. No one  _ needs _ anything right now, especially not your bigotry. 

He just glared in response. 

The Gryffindors began to climb the next set of stairs, using their recently-acquired knowledge of Hogwarts’ layout to navigate. It was a few minutes in when they realized they were missing a member.

“Where’s Harry,” Weasley whispered, eyes wide.

“Oh no,” Hermione whispered in reply.

“Is he dead?”

The two turned to Draco, looking enraged and looking incredulous, respectively.

“Of course he’s not dead, you idiot, he’s probably just-”

A yell that was clearly not from the troll came through the corridor behind them.

“Damn, has he really gotten himself caught? Guess he won’t be the ‘Boy Who Lived’ for much longer, huh?”

Hermione hissed another order of silence as she dragged Draco after Weasley, towards where they’d heard the shout from.

When they turned the corner, they were greeted with the sight of Potter, held upside down by his foot, which was wrapped in the troll’s grasp.

“Oh, Merlin! We have to help him,” Weasley said, sounding for all the world like another scared little girl. 

“Draco, what’s that spell you used earlier? Cast it again!” 

He snapped out of staring at the scene before him, pulling out his wand for a second time that night. “ _ Arresto Momentum! _ ”

The troll slowed down, just enough for Potter to slip out. He landed on his head and fell over, which would have been extremely funny in any other circumstance. One of the paintings nearby screamed, making a vase shatter. The mountain troll stumbled closer, not flinching as shards of broken ceramic pierced its feet.

“ _ Wingardium Leviosa! _ ” Weasley yelled, wand held like a sword (Hermione would later note that, no, he had neither said the charm correctly nor moved his wand in the proper manner. Despite these facts, the effects of the charm were perfectly useful).

The troll’s club lifted. It flipped in midair twice before coming down on the troll’s head with an audible ‘thunk’.

Collapsing to the ground, a little groan left the troll’s mouth, along with a long string of spittle.

“What,” a stately voice asked from behind them, “are you doing?”

“At least there’s no troll snot, that can be a trouble to clean,” Filch rasped from McGonagall’s side.

Everyone gave him bemused and worried looks.

“Why would there be troll snot?” Flitwick questioned in his high voice, looking a bit queasily at the troll. “Actually, please don’t tell me. Nevermind.”

McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose. A resigned expression came over her face, making her look much, much older than her years. “Why are you four not in the dormitory?”

“Draco and I were talking in an empty classroom during dinner and weren’t aware of what was happening,” Hermione blurted. “Ron and Harry noticed we were gone and tried to help, it’s not their fault. It’s not even Draco’s, either, I pressured him into leaving dinner early with me. I’m to blame for this.”

“Granger,” Draco drawled, nudging her shoulder with his own. “Shut up. None of us were at fault for this, considering  _ someone _ let a troll into the school. Sure, maybe those two dunderheads over there could have better decisions, but, sadly, that is not my point. We are students. Not… Whatever fights trolls. I don’t know. Hogwarts teachers, I suppose.” He waved a hand at the gaggle of teachers watching them. “Stop blaming yourself for stupid things you didn’t even cause.

“Now, shall we get to the dormitories?” He turned to the teachers. “I expect we can find a meal waiting for us, considering the lack of food in the Great Hall?”

They all looked a bit stunned. Finally, Professor Sprout spoke up. “Yes, there is supper waiting for everyone in the common rooms of your Houses. I assume McGonagall will escort you there while we take care of the troll.”

The deputy headmaster nodded, gesturing for the students to follow her. “We will discuss proper punishments for not contacting an adult or prefect tomorrow, Misters Weasley and Potter. Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy--you two do not seem to have done anything wrong, and will be free of discipline for this particular spectacle. I hope you all will stay out of trouble and follow the rules in the future.”

Her glare was harsh and strict, making them all nod. 

“Of course, Professor,” Hermione said, ever the teacher’s pet.

The woman’s eyes twinkled, albeit in a much more wise and soft way than Albus Dumbledore’s calculating and cold eyes could ever be. She hummed, nodding and saying, “Good. I hope you have learned from this experience, despite how dire the situation was.”

The rest of the walk to Gryffindor Tower was silent, but the air somehow held all the warmth of the common room, making not a one of them uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco’s finally showing a little bit of that typical Gryffindor bravery, huh~
> 
> Me: *rereading the chapter to check for mistakes* it’s fine if it’s a little incomprehensible, right?


End file.
